The Secrets of the Forest
by wonderBiz95
Summary: What really happened when Quirrel went into the forest that night? His battle to keep control over his own body and mind, while Voldemort has his own power struggle. My AS English Coursework R&R please!


Through the crisp silence of the forbidden forest the crunching of undergrowth echoed eerily between the trees. The moonlight shone through the cracks between the twisted branches it could find casting an unearthly glow on the hooded figure as it passed 'as if on air, through the blackness. The occasional rustle of foliage reminded the forests mysterious guest that he was not alone.

Glancing around wearily the figure stopped and began muttering quietly to himself.

'S-surely the-there's another way master, I-I mean of course, y-you're right b-b-b….'

'Silence Quirrell.' snapped a second voice apparently from nowhere.

'Yes master, b-but th-the creature.' Quirrell's words faded into the darkness as he felt anger radiating towards him.

'This is the only way' hissed the voice

'I know you are weak master, and this will save you b-but the beast is s-so' Quirrell tripped over his words for fear of punishment for his outburst.

'You must do as I say or we will not succeed and we will both die.' the voice struggled over the words as if in great pain.

The conversation ceased as Quirrell continued his quest, his eyes frantically scanning the undergrowth. The path he was following became almost impossible to navigate. He pushed and fought his way through the densely populated forest searching, for a sign of what he was looking for.

Something on the ground caught his eye and he stopped to inspect it more closely. At his feet was a small spot of silver liquid that shone brightly even in the darkness of the forest. Quirrell reached out and delicately dipped his fingertips into the mercury-like substance as it rippled silently. Slowly Quirrell raised his head.

'We're close m-master the beast is near.'

'Excellent' came the voice, already sounding more confident.

A bark in the distance followed by the sound of voices snapped Quirrell out of his complacency. He whipped round and saw the golden glow of lanterns and his blood ran cold.

'I fear it must be that great oaf Hagrid again' he said

The voice in his mind head at him to hasten his search, but before he could contemplate further action he felt himself being pulled forward. His body was no longer under his control. Quirrell could hear the blood pounding in his ears. The woodland flashed past his eyes in a scrambled mess. The damp air causing him to shiver uncontrollably. He desperately searched for a sign of where they were heading. Occasionally he thought he saw a flash of bluish silver indicating they were on the right trail. The flashes became more frequent and spots grew into whole pools. The beast was obviously struggling. Quirrell started to panic but his fear was quelled by the pure hunt for power felt in the back of his mind. Faster and faster he moved the world streaking past in an unrecognisable blur. The metallic scent of blood was the only thing he could focus on. He felt his heart beating so hard it nearly burst out of his chest- and then it stopped.

There in front of him, in the clearing was one of the most magical creatures he had ever seen, the unicorn. It was desperately trying to drag itself to its feet, its golden hooves clawing the ground frantically. The blood wept from the wound he had left earlier that day. Although injured, the unicorn still shone luminously, its ragged mane still sparkled down its back, its eyes screamed with pain but the shear power could still be seen gleaming amongst the tears it shed.

Quirrell's thoughts were interrupted when he heard his master's voice calling his name,

'Let me see the creature, let me see it before its end' it bellowed

Quirrell slowly turned so his back was to the beast and lowered his hood. There imprinted onto the back of his head was a face, gnarled, almost scaled, with eyes red like rubies, skin as white as the unicorns. It was the face of Lord Voldemort.

He cackled, a sound laugh that reverberated around the entire forest, drowning out the pleading neighs of the unicorn. He moved forward using Quirrell's quivering form, as the beast took its last breath, collapsed and died

'Hurry, Quirrell,' he demanded 'the closer done to the death the better'

'M-master p-p-please….' Quirrell pleaded his voice even more of a whimper than normal.

'Do it- now!' commanded Voldemort

Quirrell jumped, pulled the hood back up and made his way towards the unicorn. He knelt before it, lent forward and to his own disgust began to drink its blood. Voldemort laughed heartily as he felt the power and half-life flooding back to him.

'See' he said to no-one in particular 'sacrifices must be made in order to become all powerful – death is just one of many.'

The scream of a young boy broke through Voldemort speech; Quirrell looked up to see a flash of blonde hair sprinting away. He rose to flee knowing the boy would alert others but something stopped him.

Voldemort could feel him near, the Potter boy, he knew he was there, he sensed it, he didn't understand how but he knew. Harry Potter, 'the boy who lived' was right there, so close he could touch him- kill him. The smirk was evident the faces of Voldemort as he reached out and tried to grab the boy who was frozen in fear. Closer, closer Voldemort moved. Hooves, he could hear hooves. A centaur bounded over the boy and knocked Voldemort off his feet. Recovering quickly, he fled, now was not the time for battle.

Voldemort ignored the incessant mumbling of the fool, Quirrell. He was stronger again and closer than ever to reaching the stone, and the Elixir, but the same nagging question echoed in his mind. The boy had lived- but why?


End file.
